


Anthurium

by aliothmoo



Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: Chris is their adopted daughter lol, Drabble, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Oneshot, also cake bc slice of life/slice of cake is the best, walden fam bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:32:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24904624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliothmoo/pseuds/aliothmoo
Summary: Ever since he was a young boy, mornings were a joy for Valentine. To others, the sunrise meant the agonizing start of the day when one had to mentally steel themselves for the demanding routine that awaited them for the next 24 hours.But for Valentine, his work was never a chore.
Relationships: Harpy Valentine/Wyvern Rhadamanthys
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	Anthurium

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this is my first fic in this fandom and it's RhadaVal fluff  
> There's been a lot of discussion in the RV discord and on twitter about how Chris de Cetus (Lost Canvas) would fit so well with the Wyvern Division and then this happened.  
> Enjoy!

Ever since he was a young boy, mornings were a joy for Valentine. To others, the sunrise meant the agonizing start of the day when one had to mentally steel themselves for the demanding routine that awaited them for the next 24 hours. 

But for Valentine, his work was never a chore. 

The Cypriot could still hear the soft snores of his lord beside him in bed, his sinewy muscled arms big enough to encircle the pink-haired servant’s waist twice clutching his lithe body close to his own. For a moment, Valentine took another minute of blessed rest to feel the softness of his lord’s bare skin, whole, warm and alive beside himself. A rare fleeting moment to remind himself of what he would fight for against all the gods and that of eternity itself…He smiled, wan, long fingers ghosting against those features that were so often hard and guarded by the armor of noble superiority. 

His fingers stopped their trailing at the tip of Rhadamanthys’ nose. Valentine drew them back, then after an initial pause leaned in to press a butterfly kiss to his brow. Rhadamanthys stirred with an incoherent mumble but did not wake, what leftover tenseness he had melting away. 

“Rest well, my lord.” 

Valentine whispered, stroking a thumb where Rhadamanthys’ broad hands held him close. He memorized the roughness of calloused knuckles that could split boulders as easily as they could touch against his cheek and wipe tears away.  
One by one, he pried his hold apart with all the delicacy of a seamstress and tucked it against the sleeping dragon’s chest. Though a part of him would always wish to bask in the quiet moments with his lord forever, that was not his duty. 

Removing the sheets with as little movement from his side to the best of his ability, he swung his slender legs over the edge of the bed. 

The underworld had no mornings and no sun; but this detail hardly mattered when it came to preparing his lord for the precursor to his own duties as a Judge and a Specter. Though more dragon than man, Rhadamanthys was still human inside. He deserved everything he could give and more. Anything to relieve that duty that made those shoulders so strong and his back so broad from the weight of a world of burdens. 

Valentine wasted no time in making his way to the kitchen. His apron with a cheeky embroidered logo of ‘I’ll feed all you fuckers’ presented as a gift from the trouble-making Lord Minos and Aiacos thrown over his sakura head, he gathered the ingredients for today’s breakfast, set the table, and threw out a spread of pots, pans, and mixing bowls so varied in use that any other chef would find themselves lost.

“Chris!” He called. 

Immediately, the sound of pattering feet echoed down the vast hallway as a silver-haired girl with pigtails and a demure expression popped into view. Her sleep-laden eyes brightened at the kitchen’s busy setup, and she was by the Cypriot’s side in a flash.

“We’re making strawberry chiffon today,” Valentine explained. 

Chris tilted her head, and Valentine hesitated, realizing that the girl he and Rhadamanthys had rescued from the other Waldens had no idea what the delicacy was. His furrowed brows raised when instead, Chris stared at him and pointed at her hair.

He laughed, a bell-ring of a peal. “Yes, like my hair. Why don’t you help me prep? Be quiet though, or we’ll wake Lord Rhadamanthys before it’s time.” He put one finger to his lips.

Chris clapped her small hands together in delight and nodded. 

The two of them settled into an easy rhythm, the once-silent kitchen abuzz with life as Valentine gently coaxed Chris on how to beat eggs into stiff peaks, soft giggles emanating from both Specters when ingredients went flying from amateur stirring more than once. 

“It’s an egg, not a Saint!” He cried, failing to hide his amused grin at Chris’ shocked expression on pulverizing the entirety of an egg against the side of the bowl. “Gently now, just a tap…” 

At seeing her downturn in mood, he rescued the remaining egg and guided their hands together. “Rhadamanthys was a brute when he tried too, you know. Don’t be discouraged. A good cook must fail every so often.”

The 14-year old girl quirked a disbelieving brow. 

“It’s true!” Valentine insisted, “I swear, he is as noble and refined as one can be but his cuisine leaves…” He shuddered. “...something to be desired. That mango pie had neither mango nor pie in it.” 

Chris puffed her cheeks, clearly trying and failing to hold in her laughter at the image of Rhadamanthys holding out a pastry that resembled the souls in Cocytus more than anything remotely edible.

He continued to tell the tales of his Lord’s mishaps in the kitchen as he and Chris worked side by side. Fresh strawberries were chopped and blended with milk. The eggs were added, and respectively mixed with beet juice for color.

Chris had inherited the Walden brute strength of her line, so Valentine let her add the flour and aggressively mix the batter until there were no lumps to be found, save for splattered on their clothes and skin.

“Now we fold. You don’t want to overmix here. One,” He turned the beaten egg whites into the batter, “two, three. Like so.” She took the spatula from him and began to carefully nudge the whites into the pink mix...

Chris and Valentine opened their mouths in an O when the entire bowl of beaten eggs fell into the batter in an ungraceful avalanche of cream with a squelched flop.

\----------------------------------------

“Was there a battle in the kitchen?”

Rhadamanthys bore his eyes of hot whiskey into the scene before him, where Valentine took on a sheepish expression as he poured steaming coffee and Chris fidgeted at the breakfast table.

“No, my lord. I was preoccupied showing Chris how to cook. My apologies for not cleaning up in time…” 

The Judge paused, fork hovering over the pink concoction on his plate. “Both you and Chris made this.”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

Rhadamanthys took a bite. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste. It was lumpy and oddly-textured, and had misplaced air bubbles. But.

“It’s delicious.” He declared without reservation, earning a radiant smile from Chris and a shine to Valentine. He bore his gaze into Valentine as the pink Specter served Chris her own serving and earl grey tea. 

“It tastes like you.” He growled lowly into his ear with a suggestive gravity to his words as his servant bent down to refill another cup, then resumed eating as if nothing had happened.

Valentine’s cheeks became tinged the same color as strawberry chiffon. 

“Then my Lord will have an extra slice after dinner, I presume.” He stammered, finally joining the two Waldens at breakfast once everyone had their share. He elbowed Rhadamanthys under the table, the other responding with a shameless squeeze of the Cypriot’s thigh.

Chris watched them exchange back and forth with one another, inhaling her cake as she admired the older Specters from where she sat, basking in their mutual warmth. 

She decided strawberry chiffon was her favorite.


End file.
